RagTag
by Zero and Lurk
Summary: A new trainer fic, because I sold my soul. Alice Durvan: a ten year old trainer just starting out. Her team: A buncha weirdos. But that's alright, because when you've meddled in the affairs of a homicidal secret society...
1. Prolouge: The Squirtle

**RagTag**

**Prolouge: The Squirtle**

* * *

"You won't fight." It wasn't a question. 

The squirtle shook its head, staring at the ground. It dared not look at Alice. Alice, for her part, studied the pokemon for a moment. Its shoulders were stiff, and the expression on its face was something that Alice, with the vocabulary of a ten year old, could not describe. But there was one thing she could see in it, and it confused her. It was like…expectance. Like the squirtle knew that this would happen.

"You never planned to fight…" Alice said slowly, mostly to herself. "You-you're a pacifist."

Mutely, the water type nodded.

_ It's ashamed_, Alice thought. _And with good reason, too_. In a world that was run by the best fighters, where you were judged by how accurate your water gun was, or how far you could shoot your hyperbeam, those who refused to fight had no place.

She had been surprised when no one chose the squirtle back at Professor Oak's lab. It looked perfectly healthy, though perhaps lacking in the enthusiasm department. Alice had picked it, partly because she didn't like the look of the foul-tempered charmander, partly because she knew of a boy who had his sights set on bulbasaur, but, mostly, it was out of pity.

Alice let out a sigh. "I can't have a pokemon on my team who won't fight. You'd be dead weight. Useless."

The squirtle gave no indication of hearing her words, but somehow, Alice knew it was listening.

"It can't send you to Oak's…what kind of life is that? And releasing you isn't an option either, I mean, you really don't seem like the type to survive in the wilderness." Pausing, the girl considered something. "I suppose I could give you away to someone…but who'd have you?"

"Who'd have you?" She reflected, was their problem. If they could find the answer to that one question, then it would all be Alright. (With a capital A)

The squirtle had remained silent, but it was looking up at Alice now.

"Tomorrow…yes, tomorrow we'll look."

The blue turtle nodded, and Alice withdrew it into the pokeball.

* * *

Scott Harolds watched enviously as trainers came into the pokemon center. He knew he shouldn't be here, taunting himself, but self-control had never been a particularly strong point of his. 

Years ago, his best friends had left on their Journeys, while he stayed here.

Alone.

There was no one else in town near his age of fourteen. At least, not permanently. They were all trainers, and didn't stick in one place very long.

He wouldn't have given up leaving his home for anything, especially traveling across the continent…but it would be nice to have company other than his parents and Crazy Ms. Drewl from four houses over.

He must have been lost in his thoughts, because he was surprised to hear a girl's voice ask, "Are you okay? Only you've been staring at the same area of the wall for the past five minutes."

Scott looked around to see a girl, probably ten years of age, observing him.

There was nothing particularly outstanding about the girl, who had dull brown hair and rather bland brown eyes. Scott got the impression that, had she not spoken to him, he would have missed her completely.

The girl looked expectant, so Scott gave an answer. "I'm fine, just thinking, that's all."

Looking thoughtful, the girl noted, "I see you have no pokeballs on your person, or even a pack to carry them in. Does Nurse Joy have them? Are your pokemon being healed?" The girl glanced back at said nurse, who was in the process of giving a trainer back their great ball.

Scott thought that this was all extremely nosy of the girl, so he didn't say anything. He also didn't want the embarrassment of explaining that he wasn't a trainer or breeder of any sort.

"Do you even have any pokemon?"

Giving up, Scott let out a "No." but in a dead sort of voice.

Strangely, the girl seemed to grow eager. "And why not?"

In the same deadpan voice, Scott answered, "Because I'm not a trainer." He really wondered why he was telling her all this.

The brown-haired girl, on the other hand, had begun digging through her tan backpack, murmuring excitedly about her luck. When she looked up at him again, she was smiling, a pokeball in hand.

"You want it?"

Scott blinked. "Um, is there anything in it?"

Laughing, the girl released a timid-looking squirtle from the red and white ball.

"You seem like a decent sort of fellow to me, in the ten minutes we've spent together. Now, my squirtle here needs a home, one which I can't give." She explained.

Scott couldn't believe it. "Seriously? I can have it? For free?"

"Yes." The girl simply stated.

"But why? You don't even know me!" Scott nearly shouted, bewildered.

"Well, I'm not really on close terms with the squirtle, either," the girl continued, "so now you two have something in common."

Mumbling under her breath, she also said, "You're probably the only chance I've got, too."

Scott wasn't sure what she meant by that, but, since he knew he wasn't supposed to her it, ignored it.

Saying goodbye to the squirtle, the girl tossed the pokeball to him. Then she walked out the pokemon center door, without looking back.

"Er," Scott said, trying to get over the strangeness of what had just happened, "I'm Scott. Um…do you have a name?"

Feeling that this wasn't enough, he offered the pokemon some of his toast.

And the squirtle was happy.

* * *

Author's Notes: I figure that giving a pokemon away to strangers in the pokemon world isn't as odd as it seems. I mean, trade centers, any one? Also, I don't pretend to be a great writer, so any constuctive criticism on spelling, grammar, ect., would be helpful.  



	2. Ch 1: Dreamer

**RagTag**

**Chapter One: Dreamer**

**

* * *

**

It wasn't a bad life. In fact, it was positively grand compared to the living conditions of some people.

But Talbot wanted _more_.

Oh, he knew it was extremely arrogant to ask for even more, considering all the things he already had. A family who cherished him, friends who loved him, the best food money could buy, servants who catered to his every whim…Talbot lived in the very _definition_ of luxury. (Of course, taking into account who his owners where, it was expected. Years earlier, one of them had stereotypically inherited a ridiculously large amount of money from some deceased relative.)

When he had been younger, just a kitten, he had dreams of being…not a great fighter or battler; exactly…he had had dreams of being _known_. Those had been silly little kitten dreams, though…it wasn't like they were ever going to come true.

Why, then, did he have to constantly tell himself that? He wasn't a kitten anymore…sure, he'd only just evolved a month ago, but he was still too mature for laughable fantasies like those.

He had once confided his odd fancies to Fowler, a nidorino that belonged to one of the butlers. "There's something wrong with you, pal," His friend had told him, "It's probably just a phase. I heard that Mira from a few streets over went through something like this. Look at her, she got over it. It'll pass, don't worry about it."

This did not have any sort of soothing effect on Talbot. Mirabelle was a delcatty belonging to one of "higher ups" of Pewter City (and since this was Pewter City, higher ups were a rare thing indeed.). She and Talbot had met on several occasions, and she had always been quite keen on him. The thing was, she was younger than Talbot, so how had she gotten over this "phase" sooner?

So, Talbot had eventually concluded that this was not a temporary dilemma. He wanted to prove himself to the world, for the simple reason that he had never before had something to prove. At least, that's what he thought it was. Most of the time. Sometimes he thought that he might just want the glory.

Dreamer though he was, he was also a coward. He didn't have the guts to just get up and leave his life. He did appreciate his owners and friends, and there had been many times when he got the feeling that he couldn't live without them.

But that was wrong. In the shadows of his mind, he knew that he would be perfectly fine if they were gone. But each time that sentiment rose to the surface of his thoughts, he quickly banished it back down to the dark corners.

One day, something changed. A well-known pokemon trainer (he'd won several trophies from the Johto and Indigo Leagues) once came to dinner (Talbot's owners got around a lot). He had been friendly and conversational, and at one point Talbot's name entered the discussion.

"That's a nice-looking Persian you have there, Janet. You sure you won't lend him to me? He'd be a good fighter with a little training." The man had scratched Talbot's ears, and the Persian purred under the praise.

Janet chortled as her husband replied, "Talbot? Oh, no. Sure, he looks tough, but he's really just a wimp. Couldn't stand up to a rattata." He looked down at the cat pokemon and continued, "But that's okay. It's not like it's he's going to be in gym matches any time soon."

And the subject had been dropped. This short conversation however, affected Talbot more than he would ever let on. Maybe…maybe he could fighter. Maybe he did have something to prove.

* * *

By the time Alice had exited to Viridian Forest, she had become extremely annoyed. If she had to tell one more moron that she didn't want to battle, she'd completely Lose It. 

(Though, if she were honest with herself, she had already Lost It. Just as she was coming out of the forest, a young boy approached her with a pokeball in his hand and a determined look on his face. Throwing her arms up, she had yelled, "I don't have any friggin' pokemon! I don't _want_ to battle! LEAVE ME ALONE!" and then proceeded to scream several obscene things that a ten-year-old should _not_know about. The boy had run away, crying.)

To make her spirits worse, if you wanted to take shelter at a pokemon center, you had to have actual pokemon. Alice had not seen one pokemon the entire time she was in the blasted forest. It was probably some sort of record, she thought.

Still debating where she should spend the night, a poster on a telephone line caught her eye.

Pokemon Expo

Sept. 9-Sept 15

Monday-Friday 10 AM – 8 PM

Saturday-Sunday 11 AM – 9 PM

Pewter City Convention Center

9146 Detritus Avenue

Contests! Trading Centers! Pokemon and Merchandise Venders!

Pokemon Venders…? As in, pokemon for sale?

Alice silently thanked any god that might have been listening.

* * *

It was 6 PM, so Alice still had time to make her way to the convention center. It wasn't easy to miss- people flocked around the building, while, inside, light shown brightly and the noise of the crowd was deafening. Pewter wasn't exactly a sleepy sort of place, but it certainly caused quite a stir when any sort of big event was held there. 

Alice entered the building, and marveled at the sight before her. By nature, she wasn't usually a poetic type of person. However, the sound of over-priced goods being yelled out in advertisement, the sight of confused children being dragged around by distracted family members, and the smell of greasy, fattening food (which was almost certainly guaranteed to make you sick later) gave Alice a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. Whenever there was a profit to be made, you could always count on people to be people.

She knew what she was looking for. Everyone knew that the people that sold pokemon at these conventions had more often than not stolen the pokemon or just caught some rubbish pokemon from off the street. The ones they had stolen were a higher price, and thus customers were more inclined to buy the inexperienced rattata or pidgey.

That suited Alice just fine. She wasn't exactly the richest person in the world- and all pokemon needed a little training up.

* * *

Talbot hoped that he had made the right decision. He really, really, hoped. 

All the loose ends had been tied up. He'd licked his owners' faces one last time, and when Fowler had gone to dinner, Talbot had said goodbye and meant it.

Then he left.

He was surprised at how simple it was just to get up and walk away. He had a sneaking suspicion that someone would suddenly yell, "Stop! Wait!" and give him a dramatic monologue about why he should stay. Alas, this was not the case. Talbot supposed that this odd fantasy was the product of too much television.

So he continued on his way, with no one to stop him.

* * *

Talbot was pleased with how his plan turned out. (Though it doesn't take a genius to be abducted on purpose.) The merchants, as they called themselves, weren't that hard to find. They had an air about them that suggested that at any moment, they could escape as quickly as a…well, something very quick. (Not only did they have an air about them that suggested that, but they also had an air about them that suggested that they hadn't engaged in proper hygiene activities for several weeks.) 

Of course, the way they were looking around in a subtle manner that wasn't all that subtle, and the way they clutched their pokeballs (as though they were ready to throw them at any chance) were also dead giveaways.

Talbot allowed himself to be caught quite passively, and when he was released, one of the men was about to remove the blue collar that hung around the persian's neck. He stopped however, because his partner had interrupted, "Wait. Just take off the tag. If we keep the collar on, people'll think he's high class, right? Domestic? We'll just say it's a free gift or somethin'."

"People'd fall for that?"

"Sure. Besides, a persian's a real money maker. A tame one'd fetch even more cash."

So Talbot lay placidly in a cage, occasionally scratching at the bare collar.

* * *

Alice couldn't quite believe it when she first saw the persian. Its rich fur stood out in dramatic contrast next to the drab weedles and nidorans. Already, a crowd was starting to gather around it. Alice was able to eventually force her way through the throng and came face to face with the cat. (It should be noted, at this point, that while everyone else had to bend down to observe the cage on the table, Alice was eye-level with it. She was a short girl, even for a ten-year old.) 

The pokemon was well-groomed, and its claws seemed extremely sharp. It looked a little bored, but still watched the crowd attentively. Had its fur been matted, or it claws a little blunt…but that was not the case. There was no possible way that this persian had been wild. Which meant that it had been stolen…

It wasn't like she had anything against the weedles or nidoran, but a Persian had a lot of potential, and she wasn't going to let this opportunity slip by her.

Alice, though her parents had set aside the proper funds for her care while she Journeyed, was not exactly overflowing with riches. But, if this Persian had been illegally acquired, perhaps she could strike up a bargain with the dealer.

Alice had no idea how she was going to do this, but she figured she'd come up with something.

The man taking offers was happily jotting down names on a pad of paper. Alice looked at him, and blinked.

She had the most phenomenal luck.

"Hello, Uncle Patrick."

The man looked down, towards the voice, and an expression of surprise came over his face.

"Alice! What're you doing here?" A split-second later, he added, "Your ma's not here, is she? Or your pop, for that matter?"

"You've really got to get rid of that accent." Alice said, nonchalantly.

"Answer the question."

"No, they're not." Relief swept over her uncle's features. "But that doesn't mean you're safe. There're phones all over the place, and it only takes a second for me to call."

Patrick stared incredulously at his niece. "What're you playing at, girl?"

"What makes you think I'm playing? I just thought that you might want to talk to Mom. After all, the last time you saw her was at Christmas, and you didn't really have a lot of time to visit with her." Alice grinned, "It's a shame those cops had to come and ruin dinner. Mom never had the chance to give you a piece of her mind."

Her uncle stared at her a little more, his expression twisted into something unpleasant. Finally, he sighed.

"What do you want, kid?"

"That persian."

A snort. "You're crazy. That pokemon's a one-in-a-million chance. If I make a good sell, I might not even have to work again!"

Alice gave him a Look.

"Alright, I might not have to work for about three months. But the principle is the same."

"I don't see what good it'll do you," Alice commented breezily, "I mean, you'll already be not-working in prison, so what does it matter? Though," she put in as an afterthought, "the money would probably be good as bail."

"What are you talking about?"

"When I tell Mom I saw you, she'll be on your trail faster than a sugar-high rapidash. She knows where you'll go, and she'll find you, and then, _then_, she'll tell the authorities."

"I can't believe I'm related to such a horrible little girl."

"Oh, _I_ can." She smiled, a little cruelly. "Call it a family discount."

* * *

She fingered the collar around the persian's neck. 

"Leaving the collar on…" She muttered, shaking her head. "What a genius my uncle is."

It was around nine PM, and she sat upon the bed in the Pokemon Center, examining her new companion. When she had released it from the pokeball, the persain looked a little confused, and she figured that it probably wasn't used to traveling inside of one.

Her fingers ran over something smooth, different from the rough fabric. She took off the collar, because whatever she had discovered was on the inside. She turned the strip of material over, and found what she was looking for.

It was a bronze plate, and was probably supposed to be a last resort if the persian got lost. There was no address or phone number. Just a name.

Talbot.

She put the collar into her backpack, hoping that it would be lost in the dark, unorganized depths.

"Well, Talbot, it looks like we've got some work to do." She yawned. "We'll start tomorrow."

Talbot couldn't wait for morning to come.

* * *

Author's Notes: Thank you to Nyaa-Neko, the only one who actually reviewed, and everyone else who might be reading the fic. In response to your question, yes, the random capitalization wasn't exactly random…I read too much Terry Pratchett, and his habits of capitalizing certain words to get the point across rubbed off on me. Next chapter probably won't be up for a while...Writer's Block has me...  



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